


other people

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Family Issues, Ishbal | Ishval, Pre-Canon, Working My Feelings Through Fic, couples who make the revolution together, roy mustang/chess is my ultimate otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy is trying to learn how to be a true cunning politician but ends up helping out in a rather difficult family situation. With chess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	other people

” _no one ever won a game of chess by resigning_ ”  
savielly tartakower

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**one**

He doesn't like tea, not at first. It has never been his thing. Roy has a soldier's disposition for coffee, black scalding-hot coffee. Though the idea of himself as a soldier has a bite to it now. Maybe acquiring new habits will help with that.

Plus he was in no position to refuse the invitation.

When he is offered tea he accepts on the spot. This is the first time he has a personal meeting with a superior and he is kind of nervous. He has never been invited to the private residence of any of his commanders before. The house itself is peculiarly humble. When he heard the expression “private residence” he had imagined something bigger, grander. Sure, his only experience in these matters is seeing pictures of the ancestral Armstrong household, and everything about that family belongs to the realm of insanity so maybe he shouldn't use it as a measure. He is ushered into a cosy little room. The tea and food are laid out already and the General is waiting for Roy to sit down. He serves, wrong-footing Roy from the start. The man has that perpetual impenetrable smirk on already.

`It's a beautiful tea set. Isn't it?´

_I wouldn't know_ , Roy thinks. Mercifully the General goes on.

`It was a gift from the ambassador of Aerugo.´

Roy very much doubts that. Amestris diplomacy is, at best, mediocre, more usually disastrous, there's no way such an exchange of gifts between countries ever happened. Perhaps the old man's reputation for spinning tales is well-deserved. He's heard he was a wild card in his youth.

`You take it with milk?´ he asks, after he's poured two cups of tea.

_I have absolutely no idea_ , Roy thinks.

`Er, thank you.´

They spend quarter of an hour on the usual pleasantries and shop-talk.

Roy suspects the man has been dumping an inordinate amount of work on him and his team because he wanted to test him somehow. Or maybe he is just lazy and wanted to be rid of the load of paperwork and spend his days leisurely sipping tea. Roy admires him if it's the latter. And he hopes all that hard word will be good for him.

When he first arrived in East he was impressed with the kind of influence Grumman seemed to have over the city, the kind of influence one can only achieve in smaller towns, and over some time. Bradley might be King Bradley but Grumman surely is the uncrowned king of East City. A figure of both obscurity and enormous power among the command. If Roy intends to reach the top there's a lot he can strive to learn from people like this man.

That's another reason to pretend he likes tea.

`Why did you leave Central? You must have been as well-loved there as you are here, sir,´ Roy's becomes almost self-mockery at the overt flattery. Grumman seems like that well enough.

`Well, well,´ he mutters, pouring himself a second cup of tea. `That is a long story, maybe I'll tell you some other day. Let's just say here I am pretty much on my own, and I don't make people nervous.´

By the look he is giving Roy right the man has little intention of telling the whole story any time soon.

`What about you?´ he asks Roy, swiftly shifting the focus of the conversation. `East City seems like an odd choice for a young man like you, specially a national hero.´

Roy stares a moment, to see if he can discern the tone with which the last two words were said. He hopes the discomfort upon hearing them doesn't show on his face.

`East City might not have the opportunities of Central, but it's no backwater,´ Roy replies. `To be honest, sir, I accepted this position because here there were more chances of quick promotion. And a lot more room to manoeuvre.´

`I heard you were a man intent on climbing high, Mr Mustang. I didn't know you were so open about it.´

The use of Roy's civil title instead of rank doesn't go unnoticed.

`You heard that? What other things have you heard?´

`I've heard that some of your colleagues find you... unlikeable.´

What is the old man playing at? Roy doubts he means to insult him.

`Because of my ruthless ambition? Or is it because I'm more talented than many other older officers?´

Grumman doesn't answer that. Instead: `I've also heard you played chess.´

`Not very well,´ Roy lies. `The General, of course, is famously passionate about it.´

Grumman stands up and goes to one of his drawers.

`A hobby of mine. You don't mind then?´ he is already grabbing the chess set.

`It will be an honour.´

It only takes Roy a couple of moves to understand Grumman is indeed an enthusiastic player, and a good one – though he admits he took up the game rather late in life, and he is as mysterious about it as he is about everything else; _a pleasant by-product of being ostracised_ he comments. It's been a long time since Roy has played against someone with a real competitive streak (he tried to make Hughes his chess partner for years but the man simply had no patience for it) and he finds the other man a welcome challenge.

It almost comes to the point where Roy is able to relax a bit, and actually enjoy himself.

Then:

`You are Riza Hawkeye's direct superior, I understand,´ the other man says nonchalantly, not looking up from the board while he seems to be pondering what to do with the Rook he has in his hand.

`Yes, sir.´

`And you know of our family connection.´

`I know she is your granddaughter, yes,´ Roy replies, then clears his throat, as if he has somehow offended.

`Because not many people are aware of it.´

`She is my aide, after all.´

`And you've known each other for a long time.´

Roy gives him a neutral smile: `Yes, sir.´

`I only met her myself when she first joined the military.´

`Oh?´

`Family feuds, you know how it is.´

Roy doesn't.

`Well, you must be very happy she's moved here then.´

`Yes, of course.´

But he doesn't look happy. He looks troubled. And Roy knows he shouldn't press (he barely knows the man) but he feels a pang of unexpected sympathy.

`Is there a problem, sir?´

`No, no problem. I just wish Riza would feel more comfortable with me. I have seldom seen her since she moved here.´

`Oh, that must be because I make her work so hard,´ Roy offers graciously. Now he wonders if the whole purpose of being invited to tea was so Grumman could inquire about his granddaughter.

`You are very kind, Lt Colonel, but that's not it. She has been rather... cold towards me. It's hard to think about one's family in those terms but...´

`She needs some time, I'm sure. She...´ What is he supposed to say? What he's thinking? That she has been through hell? That Roy knows exactly how difficult it is for her to relate to people who weren't there, specially family? He can't say that. He settles for something sort of truthful. `She is a shy girl.´

`I guess you are right,´ the General shrugs, unconvinced. `Oh, look, checkmate.´

Roy stares at the board. He had been so distracted with the conversation he forgot to concentrate on his strategy. The General jots down the victory in his notebook. Just as well, Roy decides, it would have been bad form to win against a superior. He must remind himself to let Grumman win again if they repeat an afternoon like this.

 

 

 

 

**two**

He spends the next morning looking at Hawkeye in an odd way. He doesn't mean to, it just happens.

If she notices she is too polite or too disinterested to say anything.

He wonders about the General's opinion of his granddaughter's demure. It's not the first time he has heard Riza Hawkeye being described as _cold_ since they moved here. It's ludicrous of course, but it's other people, and other people don't know her, and he does. Their most immediate subordinates have even developed a healthy fear of crossing her. That might come in handy in the future. Roy kind of gets the more unkind impressions she leaves on people – because she is such a _soldier_ and so efficient and efficiency in women has always been mistakenly labelled as coldness by men.

He watches her go about the daily job; he has been having more and more paperwork, more than he imagined when he accepted the post, but Hawkeye has come up with increasingly ambitious ways to make the load lighter on Roy. It doesn't surprise him that she is so competent a bureaucrat. He spent great chunk of his youth watching her organize her father's life, after all. Roy's teacher could never cope with everyday tasks (like shopping lists and how to have running water and light and not let the walls around them crumble) at least not at the time Roy met him. He watched her run the house on her own since she was a mere child and Roy had always considered himself self-sufficient but not in the way that little girl was self-sufficient. Roy admired her so much.

Some times he gets caught up thinking about it, those long months in the countryside learning alchemy, the time Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye knew each other as completely different people and not who they are now, that time before everything became so complicated between the two of them, before Hawkeye's opinion of him became irrevocably tainted.

`Sir...?´

He smiles because it took him a bit to get used to it, the formality in her, the fact that they now work together, that he is her superior. He has been drifting away in those old memories.

`You were lost in your own thoughts,´ she points out. `If you have time for that, you have time to help me organize the filing.´

_Why not?_ he shrugs and gets up from his desk. He is not as lazy as her taunts might suggest, but Roy wants to believe he is, thinks it's a good image for a boss, will work on that. A stick-in-the-mud Hughes had once called him when they were in training. Which would be fine with him, except that kind of men never get to be generals. He takes a stack of files from the pile and opens the drawer next to Hawkeye's. He can tell she is somewhat impressed by his diligence this morning. Maybe he has been playing the part of tyrannical boss a little too well.

`Do you think people find me unlikeable?´

She turns to him, baffled: `Isn't it too early in the day to be fishing for compliments? And aren't you looking at the wrong person?´

`Yes, make fun of it. It's very important for my career, getting our superiors to appreciate my charisma.´

Hawkeye doesn't bother replying, she turns around and continues arranging the cabinet. He wonders whether the fact that he actually likes when she does _this_ is a sign of insanity. Maybe he is just relieved she seems to be enjoying herself more and more these days. When she offered to work under his command Hawkeye had looked resolute but she didn't smile much. She still doesn't smile a lot but Roy is no longer worried like he used to. She doesn't have that hollow look in her eyes, the one she had when the war finished, the one she had when she asked him to burn her back.

She could be happier still, he muses.

`Why do you live in the barracks?´ he asks her. `You have family here, you could...´

He stops at the look on Hawkeye's face. Or rather at the look she is hiding, looking away.

`I'm sorry. I should know better than to try and meddle in other's family affairs.´

Hawkeye looks honestly upset: `No, it's just... let's not talk about this.´

`I apologize.´

She gives him a small smile Roy finds almost patronizing.

`Your experience of family has been a bit different from mine,´ she tells him.

He knows that. Hawkeye often heard him talk about his mother back when he was a teenager. Between lessons he would go down to the kitchen for something to eat or a cup of coffee and he would blabber and blabber about his life to the young girl. After everything that's happened Roy holds those memories not so much as treasures but as bitter reminders.

Those months in his teacher's house opened his eyes to a different reality of familial bonds. Roy's upbringing had been far from normal but he began to understood that he was privileged in that sense. The honest way in which his adoptive mother talked to him (too honest, if you asked then then-adolescent Roy Mustang) was not, in fact, the norm, as he was bound to find out.

`I promise not to bring up the subject again,´ he says sweetly. _Unless you want me to_ he adds mentally. But he doesn't need to say it; Hawkeye knows that.

`And if you are worried about your men, sir... Don't be. I don't think they find you unlikeable,´ she says. `I just think they don't really know you.´

 

 

 

 

 

**three**

The chess matches become a fixture of his days.

They are also, somehow, the high point in Roy's meagre social life – it's not as hopeless as it sounds, after all it's not like East City has a rich cultural offer; when he was younger he didn't understand all the limitations of living in a military society, but does he feel them acutely now.

They don't always play in the General's house. He also pops up during Roy's breaks in the office for a quick game. What the other soldiers must think of this Roy can only speculate. He has thought the matter over, if it's wise to be seen in open alliance with Grumman. He has decided to stick with it. Since Roy already makes the commanding officers in Central nervous by his mere existence... He believes it's a perverse kind of wise strategy to associate himself with somebody equally distrusted by Bradley's inner circle.

But that's just rationalizing. The truth is he likes the man.

There's also the matter of Hawkeye, which plays a great part on the decision. It pains Roy to think she is at odds with her family (after all, he can hardly imagine how that must feel like) and if he can help in any way it doesn't matter that it's improper. He hasn't brought up the subject again with Hawkeye, as he promised, but if her grandfather asks him directly –and he often does, almost as often as Roy thinks about doing it himself during the course of a game– he is not shy to give the. General a piece of his mind.

`You are the only family she has left. She needs you. And you need her. Don't give up, sir.´

Ah, Roy thinks, that is not the way to talk to a superior.

The old man rewards Roy's boldness with one of the very few honest smiles he's seen.

`I see. You are quite honest. I was not expecting that. I can see why Riza values your opinion so much.´

`Lieutenant Hawkeye values my opinion? First news I have of that!´

Grumman looks puzzled with that reply, but Roy doesn't let the mask slip. In the same way Hawkeye always likes to exaggerate his unwillingness to work Roy likes to downplay her loyalty to him in front of others. It's what they do, half a private joke, half a defence mechanism.

`You are a very intriguing man, Roy Mustang.´

 

 

 

 

**four**

Even though East City is one of the largest towns in Amestris the army here is a peculiarly small affair and some times Roy and Hawkeye find themselves doing such menial tasks as moving supplies to Communications. Roy doesn't like carrying boxes more than any regular person would and he is thinking up ways of making Private Fuery pay; he was the one who thought up a way to re-route all the telephone lines for maximum efficiency. How did he get stuck with a bunch of overachievers, Roy often wonders. He is sure even Jean Havoc is bound to pleasantly surprise him one of these days.

So they are walking around the bakc of the building, inciting curious glances from soldiers as they cross their paths. It has taken a couple of months but the lower ranks are finally beginning to treat Roy like a normal human being. Sure, he still gets the odd intrusive look across the cafeteria, that one that's more fear than admiration and that has _there, it's the hero of Ishval_ written over it. The kind of look that still leaves a bitter, burnt taste in Roy's mouth.

All in all it's better to just get the “what the hell is doing Lt. Colonel Mustang carrying cardboard boxes?” look, so he can't complain. And he is doing the job with Hawkeye, to whom he _can_ complain, but who will not think less of him for it. Even though she is carrying more boxes than he is – which, fair enough, her arms are stronger than his, all those hours in the shooting range and rifles are not precisely light.

`I've heard you often play chess with General Grumman, sir,´ she says as they walk, surprising him.

It's weird she hasn't commented on it before; she has seen them meet for matches all around the HQ. For a moment Roy worries she is angry at him for prying.

`Don't worry, I'm not trying to get involved in your business again. Just pure good old careerism. Trying to get on with the higher ups.´

She senses the tone of defensiveness, and is quick to reassure him: `That's not why I asked... I have dinner every Thursday with him.´

`That is good, I'm glad.´

`Thank you, sir.´ And she pauses. `And I know how much the General enjoys that game. I thought it would be nice if we could play together. A family thing.´

A sudden rush of inexplicable affection comes over Roy.

`That's a great idea. I'm sure he'll appreciate that.´ But he takes notice of the look on her face. `You don't know how to play. Do you?´

She almost looks embarrassed. Roy feels bad about being a bit delighted at that.

`I know the rules,´ she says. `I thought you could teach me some of the basics.´

Now it's Roy's turn to feel slight embarrassment. This was the last thing he would have imagined he'd hear her say. Not because Hawkeye is the kind of person who wouldn't ask for help (because that is what this is, right? she's asking him) but because Roy is not used to seeing her in need of help. Normally it goes the other way around.

`Er... of course, I _would_ , happily, but... don't you think the General himself would be pleased if you asked him to teach you?´

Hawkeye's expression is one he knows too well. No one else would suspect level-headed Lieutenant Hawkeye was so proud.

`I'm a bit like you in that sense,´ she tells him. `I want to impress my superiors.´

`Wanting to show off in front of the family, uh? Yes, I can help with that. I'm free tomorrow evening if you can make some time.´

 

 

 

 

**five**

`Inviting a girl to spend time alone with you. And at night! No wonder you were in such a hurry to have a place of your own. I'm so proud.´

Roy rolls his eyes, hoping the gesture somehow gets through the telephone line.

`I didn't tell you so you could be disrespectful to your fellow soldiers. I was just saying. You are the one who drills me about every little detail of my life.´

Hughes does this, but Roy knows he does it because Roy appreciates it, not the other way around. The separation hasn't been painless and he knows Hughes worries he might be lonely in East. Hughes is the one with a private life, plans for the future. His life is driven by different motives to Roy's – but then again this has always been the case.

`Well, don't waste your chance,´ Hughes continues to be inappropriate at the other end. `It's not like you get that many dates as it is.´

The two young officers passing by turn their heads at the sound of Roy almost smashing the phone down to pieces as he hangs up on his friend.

 

 

 

 

**six**

It has been a some months since he left the barracks. His promotion made it uneasy, living alongside the lower ranks while he himself was a proper officer. Some times he misses the companionship of wartime (he misses absolutely nothing else). And Hughes was right; he does get lonely some times. His subordinates are great, he's grown very fond of them already, but they are still not close – they are young and mostly inexperienced and they take the superior-subordinate divide seriously. The only real person he could consider a close friend is Hawkeye – and their past and shared experiences made things too difficult. Not to mention the fact that Roy could not delude himself into thinking his feelings towards her are entirely friend-like; a fact he'd rather gloss over for the time being. Because he can't afford to think like that. Because. There's a scar on Hawkeye's back shaped by his hand and that's never changing.

When the time for their meeting comes he takes out two cups and starts making some coffee. He wonders if he should get something to eat, too. He hasn't really planned the evening. He is surprisingly nervous about this. Damn Hughes and his insinuations. Next time he calls the office Roy is not picking up.

When she arrives part of the anxiety goes away. No matter the circumstances he is always glad of her presence. She accepts his offer of coffee but they decide to have it in the living room, as they practice. Roy wonders why they didn't play all those years ago in her house, he could have taught her then. It didn't seem like she found much to entertain herself in that place, he should have noticed. How up his own ass was his head in those days? All he thought about was alchemy and research and during breaks the last thing he wanted was more mental exercises. Thinking back on it now Roy feels he could slap that pretentious boy.

He places the board (but keeps the pieces in their box) on the coffee table and he sits on the floor, letting Hawkeye take the couch.

`This is not the set you take to the office,´ she notices.

`No. That's the small one I can carry to the office, and I have this one at home.´

She spares him further comment, but Roy imagines her glance to be full of pity for him. Yes, he has _two_ chess sets. He takes one piece of each colour from the box and offers the closed fists to Hawkeye.

`You pick.´

She stares at him.

`That's how you decide who will be white pieces and who will be black. You have to learn the rituals, too.´

Oh he is enjoying this part a little too much. It has been a long time since he's got to play the wise older boy with her. He's missed it.

`Does it matter?´ she asks.

`Well. White moves first, for a start. And players some times get attached to colours.´

She picks, pointing at his right fist. She gets whites.

`Do you know how to set up the board? _Queen on her own colour_ and all that?´

`Yes, I know that much,´ so Roy lets her. He had set the chessboard the wrong way on the table to see if she picked on it. She does, of course, and sets it right, whites on the right.

It's not like he has much experience teaching other people (his fellow-soldiers all preferred cards; except for the campaign surgeon, Knox, who was a far superior player – trying to spout out moves without a board in between measuring burns and arresting haemorrhages and Roy could never keep up); but he guesses the best way to go –specially with someone like Hawkeye– is to teach as they play.

Like with everything else Hawkeye is an exceptionally quick learner in this – ironically that has always made her the perfect fit for a soldier; never needing to be told things twice. It doesn't surprise him, but Roy regrets it a bit, he had hoped he could help more.

`Some times I forget what a good memory you have,´ he comments.

She smiles at him; she is so earnest, her short hair falling on her eyes as she pours over the board. Like a true beginner she becomes attached to the Bishop's elegant movements. After three complete (if short) games she is getting the hang of it, a certain fluidity of thoughts. She asks if there are some essential plays she should know.

`I'm not asking for tricks,´ she tells him. `And I won't be able to come up with a strategy of my own.´

`Wait a moment,´ Roy gets up and goes to his shelves. `I think I have a book here that can be useful.´

`You have books about chess?´

He looks over his shoulder; her expression is easy enough to read.

`You think I'm a hopeless dork now. Don't you?´ He asks, hurt.

Hawkeye tries to stifle a chuckle but it's too late; he doesn't mind much, she might be laughing at him, but she looks good like that. Her grin –she covers it with one hand, pretends she needs to cough– betrays that she has thought he was a dork for a long time now. _She_ doesn't seem to care much for the superior-subordinate divide.

He hands her the book; it's old and well-loved, a thin volume.

` _History of Chess in Fifteen Strategies?_ ´ she reads out.

`Beginner's stuff but you can practice those on your own. Guaranteed to impress the old man. It's one of my favourites from when I was a kid. I spent a lot of time of my own so I used these books to improve my gameplay.´

`That's how you learned?´

`Not at first. My mother taught me. She is a woman of many talents,´ he explains, wistfully.

`What does she think about you being in the military?´ she says after a moment, brow creased, and though she tries to make it sound like the question has just occurred to her Roy can tell she has been meaning to ask for a while.

`She never approved. She still doesn't, even now. Didn't understand why I wanted to join. She finds it even harder to see why I would _stay_. But I was a spoiled kid, I always did what I wanted. It's different for you. Your family has a military tradition, you won't have to deal with that kind of problem.´

Hawkeye frowns slightly: `I guess not.´

`What do you know about your grandfather's career? I haven't been able to get a straight answer from him. I find him a very intriguing man.´

`Everybody does, I think. I don't know much about the circumstances. My father never talked about my mother's side of the family. Not even before... before things got bad. He was still hurt they opposed the marriage, I could tell. He never mentioned how my relatives were doing. Not even when I asked...´

For a moment Roy thinks about reaching out and touching her shoulder, comforting her. But he is still wary of initiating physical contact between them – he wonders if he will ever comfortable enough to ( _there's a scar shaped by his hand_...) and hopes Hawkeye doesn't think him unkind for keeping his distance.

`I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you,´ he says as tenderly as he can.

She shakes her head: `It's fine, sir, you didn't.´

Roy chuckles.

`We are alone now, you can call me Roy.´

`I don't know if I could.´

`You used to call me Roy when you were a little girl. You were so cute, it took me a bit to get you to drop the _Mr Mustang_ , you really made me feel old then.´

She makes a groan-like sound; of course, nothing so insubordinate as a groan, just something that sounds like it.

`I think _sir_ will do for now,´ she says. Roy has the feeling he is being teased.

`I see. I will have to work for that _Roy_ from now on,´ he decides. `But you will also have to work for your _Riza_. Deal?´

He doesn't know what he is saying, really. She is in his house and that clouds his judgement of the situation, like she is out of context. Damn Hughes again, him and his ridiculous ideas, they have put Roy on edge. Fortunately Hawkeye seems to regard his impertinence with the same benevolent patience she uses whenever he messed up some very important piece of paperwork. Those times no one would be able to tell she is actually the younger one.

 

 

 

 

**seven**

`I see you have a game half-way, sir.´

Roy stands studying the board. As far as he can tell the blacks are beating the whites to a pulp and it's checkmate in seven moves.

`Oh, yes,´ Grumman explains as he sets down the tray. `My granddaughter.´

He sounds so gleeful and Roy cannot help but flash a wide grin. He must look stupid, and not very professional. He doesn't care. He is just happy to have something to do with it, and not just for Hawkeye, but for the old man as well.

`Just tea today, then,´ he says, trying not to sound too damn pleased with himself.

`If you don't mind.´

Roy takes it upon himself to serve the tea this afternoon: `Allow me. I'm beginning to like it, too.´

`You didn't before?´

`Tea? No. I just said I did to be polite.´

`The things we do to impress our superiors...´ Grumman says and they both sit down with their cups. For a moment or two they just stand in silence. Then: `Do you imagine Riza joined the military to impress you?´

Roy freezes. He can swear the tea has gone cold in a second, too. He cannot read the General's expression for the life of him. It's a sort of benevolent grin that does not reach his eyes, like a mask. Roy tries to counter-attack with the driest, fakest smile he can pull off.

`No, I don't believe it's the case. I think she joined the military because the only life she had ever known was taken from her, and it was the only thing she could think of. I won't deny _I_ had something to do with it. But you can be sure she didn't do it to impress me.´

That seems to be enough for now, but Roy is starting to understand how this man can simultaneously make so many enemies in Central and retain enough power for the higher-ups to feel uncomfortable with disposing of him. He is a formidable presence. But if he can lash out uncomfortable questions so can Roy.

`Did they move you out Central because of you position on Ishval?´

Grumman makes a clucking sound: `Shush. One has to be careful, even these days, with what one says about the war.´

_Specially these days_ Roy amends mentally. The war is over but it's recent enough that everybody is still looking for cowards and traitors.

`Come on now, General, we are chess partners. There's no distrust between chess partners.´

The words are playful but the tone is not; it's cold and metallic. Roy thinks about it as his “political voice”. It's so obvious an imposture that it almost works.

`I wonder if, in you, they sent an spy,´ Grumman says.

It's easy to imagine how that would go. An old man isolated, without any strong allies here, left pretty much to his own devices. If the top brass wanted to make trouble for him this would be the way to go – convincing a young, ambitious officer to come under his command and undermine his authority from there. No one was foolish enough to try to turn Roy into a spy, though. Instead they might have sent quite the opposite.

He smiles warmly at the other man: `Likewise, sir. I worry what kind of reports you are sending back about me.´

Grumman lets out an amused noise. `What happened to trust in chess?´

`I think somebody made a grave mistake putting us together, General.´

_And they will hopefully pay for it_.

 

 

 

 

 

**eight**

He finds Hawkeye in the cafeteria at an odd hour where it's almost deserted, musing over a cup of coffee.

He is a bit surprised (he thought she had gone home ages ago) but he doesn't miss a beat getting a hot drink for himself and joining her.

Here in East they don't take the officers-subordinates division so seriously when it comes to sitting in the dining room, unlike in Central things here are a bit more informal. Still, people are not so used to seeing a superior and his aide sitting together. They are getting used to seeing Roy and Hawkeye sitting together, though.

He sits by her side rather than in front of her; an old soldier's habit he needs to work on, born from nights huddled together with comrades, cold nights around a feeble fire. Hawkeye acknowledges his presence with the lines of her mouth curled up not in a smile, not exactly. More like she appreciates the intimacy of the gesture – it tells Roy that there's something in her mind and that she is glad to have him here to talk.

So he waits.

Hawkeye doesn't bother with preliminary small talk, because, well, because why would she, with him?

`General Gruman asked me to move into the family house.´

`Ah,´ Roy sits back.

`You knew about that.´

`He told me he wanted to ask you, yes. Asked my advice.´

A bit of humour reaches her voice. `I should be more bothered by all this familiarity between you two.´

`Vice-versa,´ Roy says, a bit worried, thinking for once like a superior officer, vulnerable to gossip. `What are you going to do?´

`I don't know. I think it's a good idea to move out of the barracks,´ she says. `I'm not sure about the other thing. I appreciate the offer but...´

`But you might want a place of your own?´

`A couple of months ago I wouldn't have thought about it. But things are going so well with my grandfather, I don't think we need to live together to keep that bond.´

`I'm glad to hear that.´ And he is.

They both keep silence for a while, it feels good. It reminds Roy of those evenings in his teacher's house, comfortable sitting at young Riza's side, just talking about nothing and everything. It reminds Roy of that but without the extra weight of these past months.

Hawkeye rests her chin on her hand and doesn't look at Roy when she speaks again.

`You think people like us deserve to have things like families, relationships?´

`This is what has been troubling you?´

`When I became your aide I said that we should be the ones to suffer so that future generations might never go through what we went through... Is wanting anything more than that from life... is it...?´

`... some kind of treason?´

She looks at him very intently, as if she is trying to catch a glance of something that won't stay still. Then she looks away, down, brushing her finger along the rim of her mug.

`We haven't talked about this before, have we.´

`I guess it's time,´ Hawkeye says, apologetic but decided. `All those people died because of us. And we get to live.´

Roy sighs. Things happen very slowly, and then all of the sudden.

`Do you think denying ourselves of every shred of happiness for the rest of our lives is going to make up for what we did on the battlefield?´

`No, of course not,´ she replies, not meeting Roy's eyes. `I'm not stupid.´

`And don't you think I've thought about choosing that same fate for myself?´

Hawkeye looks up.

`I still think like that some times,´ he tells her, and it feels good to finally tell someone. No, not someone. Her. Other people wouldn't understand. `But I'd rather be useful. How to put it? It's not that I want atonement – that's too selfish. ´

`Trying to be selfless is what put us in this position in the first place.´

He runs his hands through his hair.

`You are right. Here I am being naïve again, when my naivete cost thousands of lives.´

She doesn't protest. If there's one thing Roy can count on is this: always getting the truth from Hawkeye. It's a mixed blessing. He goes on:

`Other people have decided to think it was not really their fault. We were following orders. We fell prey to the machinations of a tyrant. This is what they tell themselves. So they can live a life without this burden. I don't blame them. I don't think they are bad people because of that choice. I don't think I'm better than them just because... But I can't do that. I cannot live fooling myself like that. And I have the feeling that you are not the kind of person who can, either.´

`I'm not.´

In the past Roy had always felt that deep down –in the things that mattered– he and Hawkeye were very much alike, strikingly so. People wouldn't know just looking at them. But it's true, and it remains true (maybe they are even more alike today) and perhaps it's the reason behind the strength of their connection, and the peculiar affection they hold for each other, which has survived in the worst possible circmustances. It's not surprising they agree on this, specially on this. He hopes knowing he is going through the same kind of struggle can bring some comfort to her.

But, despite all this, Roy also wants to tell her that she could rightfully be one of those other people; he wants to tell her it wasn't her fault, it was not her fault, tell her that every bad thing that has happened to her, every crime she thinks she has committed, it was all _his_ fault. He cannot begin to tell her how thankful he is because she has never, not once, told him that it _wasn't_.

`You are also not the kind of person to wallow in self-pity,´ he points out.

Her expression illuminates a bit, softens. Roy wonders if she _is_ trying to impress him at times, if she is pleased with how much pride he takes in her. If Roy were to examine himself he'd have to admit that more often than not he is trying to impress Hawkeye as well.

`I'm not that kind of person, no,´ she agrees. `At least I don't want to be.´

Before he realizes what he is doing Roy has his hand lightly resting on the crook of her elbow; the gestures surprises him more than it does her.

`You are the person who will get the job done,´ he tells her. `And maybe being happy, forging meaningful connections with other people, maybe that's what will get the job done.´

`You really believe that, don't you?´ she says, looking at him like he is such a fool; looking at him like she doesn't mind so much.

`I do. Maybe I just hope.´

`I think it's the same thing. It's called faith,´ she tells him. She was always the smarter one, Roy muses. Then she adds, quietly: `I have it too.´

`Thank you,´ Roy says, before he remembers he is the one supposed to be consoling her. Oh well. He finally lets go of her arm, amazing at how natural the touch felt, how uncomplicated despite all of his dread.

`It's a comfort, how little you've been able to change, sir,´ she half-snorts, shakes her head, but Roy decides it's not a insult, not at all.

`I wanted to serve the people even before the war started. All the horrible things I did... they changed my mind about many things but not about that. That has to mean something. Don't you think?´

_We get to live_. That has to mean something, too. They will _make it_ mean something.

She nods and holds his gaze. There's that resolve again. He still admires her so much.

`Now,´ he says briskly; that sentimental looking at each other has gone on forever, and might go on just yet, if he doesn't change the subject. `So how are the chess games with the General coming along? Is he letting you win like a good grandparent?´

`Are you still letting _him_ win like a good upstart?´

Roy gapes at her. `He _knows_ about that?´

She raises an eyebrow.

`He knew from day one.´

`Wily old man.´

`You, on the other hand, are not as cunning as you think you are.´

`Making a fool out of me,´ Roy sighs. `It must run in the family.´

Hawkeye grins and he knows he has walked into it.

`Not that you need any help with that.´

`You are very hard on me, lieutenant.´

`Well, someone has to be,´ she says, looking as smug as he's ever seen her.

`Sounds like a deal.´

`Well, it is, _sir_.´

And so it is, Roy thinks. He finds it encouraging.


End file.
